From PJ's book in progress

[Guest]

Vanishing son

Workers walking frantically.
Buses barge Bohemothely.
Ignoring the one who's vanishing
the one who has no phone to ring
Yet the world spins on it's axis
Tumbling.

But not even galactic gravity
Can cure the plague of invisibility.

Still I see you daily.

And I
I try
To reach to you
as you turn to run from me.
Thus increasing my invisibility.

When I have so much more to give
And I want so badly just to live.

Another day rolls into night.
Chasing the sunlight from our sight.
Yet I remain the vanishing son


Stopped

It didn’t really happen all at once.
Through time
Everything changed.
Thoughtful moments
Became sleepless nights.
Pain stopped.
Pain returned.
Quicker than the doctors who offer no hope.

Then it stopped.
Not the pain.
Not the hope.
Not even the love and intimacy
I always wanted and never found.

I changed.
I stopped.
No longer the moldable clay
That could be shaped into a
Brighter future
A better person
Someone who could love you more.

When bad things happen to good people,
Others remark:
“God has plans for you.”

Or

“God will never give you more than you can handle.”

Sometimes I even made myself believe ridiculous bullshit like that.

But then pain-killers stopped killing pain.
Sleeping pills stopped bringing sleep.
Lovers stopped loving.

And I stopped right along with them.

My heart may beat.
My eyes may be open;
My lungs filled with air.
But I stopped today.

You don’t have to be dead to die.

 

[Rybka]

When someone posts a poem on this forum it is generally presumed that they would like some constructive comments. I will proceed from that assumption. My remarks are inserted in red.

Vanishing son

Workers walking frantically.
Buses barge Bohemothely.
What does “Bohemothely” mean? Are you going for “behemoth” or “Bohemian” or a giant beatnik combo?
Also, how do buses “barge”?
And if you are going for alliteration, try to keep it consistent. See Loon.
Ignoring the one who's vanishing
the one who has no phone to ring
Yet the world spins on it's axis
Tumbling.
What is tumbling? If you mean the world, anything that spins won’t tumble the gyroscopic effect will keep it stable. Spinning is in two dimensions, tumbling adds the third.

But not even galactic gravity
Can cure the plague of invisibility.
Even if I were to grant invisibility“plague” status, what does gravity have to do with invisibility, unless you are at the interface edge of a black hole? Even then the effect is the opposite of what you want.

Still I see you daily.

And I
I try
To reach to you
as you turn to run from me.
Thus increasing my invisibility.
Do you need two “I”s? I am not sure how well that works, especially with no punctuation. If someone “turns and runs from me” that may increase your “feeling of invisibility”, but it points out that you are not actually invisible.

When I have so much more to give
And I want so badly just to live.

Another day rolls into night.
Chasing the sunlight from our sight.
Yet I remain the vanishing son
I like the mixed image of “sun” and “son” both vanishing, but I question “chasing”. Also after “night” use a comma not a period.

Stopped

It didn’t really happen all at once.
Through time
Everything changed.
Thoughtful moments
Became sleepless nights.
Pain stopped.
Pain returned.
Quicker than the doctors who offer no hope.
The last line does not fit with the rest of the stanza.

Then it stopped.
Not the pain.
Not the hope.
Not even the love and intimacy
I always wanted and never found.
Your punctuation needs correction.

I changed.
I stopped.
No longer the moldable clay
That could be shaped into a
Brighter future
A better person
Someone who could love you more.
Does this “Someone” want more love from you? I thought she/he was running from you.

When bad things happen to good people,
Others remark:
“God has plans for you.”

Or

“God will never give you more than you can handle.”

Sometimes I even made myself believe ridiculous bullshit like that.
Lose this entire stanza. It doesn’t fit, is very trite, and detracts from the poem.


But then pain-killers stopped killing pain.
Sleeping pills stopped bringing sleep.
Lovers stopped loving.

And I stopped right along with them.

My heart may beat.
My eyes may be open;
My lungs filled with air.
But I stopped today.

You don’t have to be dead to die.
How could you “die” if you were already dead?

You can take these comments as you wish. They are only the thought of one reader, but please be assured that they are meant constructively.
It is often a good idea to put a new poem aside for awhile and not come back to it until you can read it objectively as if you had not written it. - Whatever you do, keep on writing.

Regards,                                 Rybka

 

[Guest]

thank you for your critique and suggestions. I guess I should have explained a few things before I just threw my poetic license around like that.

Yes I did mean Bohemoth as in big. I figured that was obvious by saying bus...buses are big

The moldable clay part in stopped is about a particular person. The running away from me in vanishing son is about the world in general.

The tumbling and galactic gravity etc in vanishing son is not about science, it's about mental breakdown. In addition to vanishing son representing the suset and mental breakdown, it is also a reference to my ex fiancee who had an abortion 10 years ago murdering my son just to spite me.

The stuff about bad things happening to good people and not having to be dead to die comes from my life. I was shot in the head with a 45, stabbed twice, broke my back 3 times and survived two OD's...but it's more about feeling dead inside.

I sometimes forget that the whole world doesn't know everything about me.
Thanks for taking the time to read my work

 

[Guest]

not much of a commenter,
I enjoyed reading it aloud,
would you give me permission to do that in audio?

 

[Guest]

not much of a commenter,
I enjoyed reading it aloud,
would you give me permission to do that in audio?

go for it...have fun

pj

 

[Angeline]

hello Johnny

and welcome to the poetry board.

I very much enjoyed your poem. It is a beautiful piece alive with imagery and movement--and those to me are two signs of a good poem. I understand its meaning, I think, and you are brave for putting it out here for poets to pick over. Thank you for sharing it.

By the way, there is a book-length poem, No Eyes, by David Meltzer about jazz great Lester Young, that addresses a lot of the stuff you have here in a similar way.

And I liked "bohemothely." I love to play with words and shift things around, and I make up words in my poems, too (my favorite is "punkinated," which I used to describe a halloween night ).

I would make a few editorial changes to lose some of the caps, which I don't think are adding anything and get rid of some extraneous language that you don't need.

My suggestions are incorporated--feel free to use them if you find them helpful.

Workers walking frantically.
Buses barge bohemothely.
Ignore the one who's vanishing,
the one who has no phone to ring,
while world spins on it's axis,
tumbling.

But no galactic gravity
Can cure invisibility.

(Still I see you daily.)

And as I try
to reach for you,
you turn to run from me
increasing my
invisibility.

I have so much more to give
I want so badly just to live.

Another day rolls into night.
Chases the sunlight from our sight.
Yet I remain the vanished son.

Stopped.

It didn’t happen all at once.
Through time everything changed.
The thoughtful moments
turned to sleepless nights.
Pain stopped
and pain returned.

Then it all stopped.
No pain.
No hope.
Not even love and intimacy
always wanted never found.

I changed.
I stopped.

No longer the moldable clay
to shape into another day,
a brighter future,
better person--

Someone to love you more.

When bad things happen to good people,
others say that God
has plans for you

or that

he never gives you more
than you can bear.

(Sometimes I made myself believe that.)

But then pain-killers stopped killing pain.
Sleeping pills stopped bringing sleep.
Lovers stopped loving.

And I stopped too.

My heart may beat.
My eyes may open;
My lungs filled with air.
But I have stopped.

You don’t have to be dead to die.

Thanks again Johnny. Keep writing!

 

[Guest]

Re: hello Johnny

and welcome to the poetry board.

I very much enjoyed your poem. It is a beautiful piece alive with imagery and movement--and those to me are two signs of a good poem. I understand its meaning, I think, and you are brave for putting it out here for poets to pick over. Thank you for sharing it.

By the way, there is a book-length poem, No Eyes, by David Meltzer about jazz great Lester Young, that addresses a lot of the stuff you have here in a similar way.

And I liked "bohemothely." I love to play with words and shift things around, and I make up words in my poems, too (my favorite is "punkinated," which I used to describe a halloween night ).

I would make a few editorial changes to lose some of the caps, which I don't think are adding anything and get rid of some extraneous language that you don't need.

My suggestions are incorporated--feel free to use them if you find them helpful.

Workers walking frantically.
Buses barge bohemothely.
Ignore the one who's vanishing,
the one who has no phone to ring,
while world spins on it's axis,
tumbling.

But no galactic gravity
Can cure invisibility.

(Still I see you daily.)

And as I try
to reach for you,
you turn to run from me
increasing my
invisibility.

I have so much more to give
I want so badly just to live.

Another day rolls into night.
Chases the sunlight from our sight.
Yet I remain the vanished son.

Stopped.

It didn’t happen all at once.
Through time everything changed.
The thoughtful moments
turned to sleepless nights.
Pain stopped
and pain returned.

Then it all stopped.
No pain.
No hope.
Not even love and intimacy
always wanted never found.

I changed.
I stopped.

No longer the moldable clay
to shape into another day,
a brighter future,
better person--

Someone to love you more.

When bad things happen to good people,
others say that God
has plans for you

or that

he never gives you more
than you can bear.

(Sometimes I made myself believe that.)

But then pain-killers stopped killing pain.
Sleeping pills stopped bringing sleep.
Lovers stopped loving.

And I stopped too.

My heart may beat.
My eyes may open;
My lungs filled with air.
But I have stopped.

You don’t have to be dead to die.

Thanks again Johnny. Keep writing!

thank you. I'm going to look up that book too. I apprecoate it.

pj

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Jonnie's an asshole (and he reciprocates the opinion of me) but he's not his poem, and I have to stand up for his use of the double 'I' in 'And I/I try..." I think it gives the poem a kind of stuttering feel that reflects his uncertainty and does it very well. It's a very 'singerly' trope, the kind of thing ballad singers use all the time, and I think it's very effective here. I think it's one of the strong points of the poem.

I also have to take violent exception to Rybka's literalism. This is poetry, for christ's sake, and you're going to pull out a dictionary and take him to task because the world doesn't literally "tumble"? I mean, the dawn doesn't literally "break" either.

I admit that I was uneasy with the 'tumbling' at first, but now I think it's near perfect. The awkwardness of the rhyme with "vanishing...ring" is very poignant and a perfect ending for the first stanza.

His "buses barge bohemothly" also bothered me at first, because it seems almost too hearty and comical for this poem. But it's a fucking great image. I would change the spelling to "behemothly" though, because I think that the beast is spelled "behemoth".

Yeah, the "galactic gravity" sounds a little contrived. There must be a better word or image.

I would also change "you turn to run from me" to "you turn and run from me"

And jonny would never forgive me if I didn't point out that it should be "its" and not "it's" when referring to the world. The possessive of 'it' doesn't take an apostrophe.

The poem reminds me a lot of primitive art. It's got that same kind of rough power.

---dr.M.

 

[Guest]

thanks. But if you don't beleive the poems are me and I am the poems, I'd be happy to post a headshot after the bullet went thryough it or the surgery scars on my back

 

[Angeline]

thanks. But if you don't beleive the poems are me and I am the poems, I'd be happy to post a headshot after the bullet went thryough it or the surgery scars on my back

um ok, but not here please.

I have to tell you all that I'm ready to leave this board. It used to be a wonderful place, but now it's about fighting and complaining. I just want poetry, not all this other stuff. Most of you are terrific, but a few are spoiling it for those who came to learn and enjoy the other poets.

 

[Guest]

um ok, but not here please.

I have to tell you all that I'm ready to leave this board. It used to be a wonderful place, but now it's about fighting and complaining. I just want poetry, not all this other stuff. Most of you are terrific, but a few are spoiling it for those who came to learn and enjoy the other poets.

Thank You. That's why I came here.

I got lots of positive response then this kind of thing

I'll work at not letting my mouth move faster than I type

PJ

 

[Angeline]

ok. sorry for the outburst--it's actually not you.

 

[Guest]

thanks

 

[Lauren Hynde]

I have to tell you all that I'm ready to leave this board. It used to be a wonderful place, but now it's about fighting and complaining.

Angie, you leave this board and I swear to God I will punch you in the teeth.